Equilibrium
by RowanDarkstar
Summary: But she's been living through hell and here she is still on her feet. It's all any of them could expect."


**Disclaimer: **All belongs to Damien Kindler and Stage 3 Media and Ms. Tapping and all the usual suspects who aren't me. Just borrowing these beautiful people. Thanks for the favor.  
**Timeline: **Post-"Pavor Nocturnus"

Many thanks to Teddy E and Aurora Novarum for the awesome betas that kicked me neatly into shape.:)

**"Equilibrium"**  
by  
Rowan Darkstar  
Copyright (c) 2009

He watches her from the moment she returns. She banters right along with him, following his lead, and looking as breathtaking as ever in her long leather coat with her hair haphazard and tied at the base of her neck. But something is off, and he can't quite peg the source.

She slips away and showers, shakes off the road dust, and shows up back in the study in a skirt and heels and silk blouse, ready for the morning meeting.

She doesn't miss a beat. _("The containment crate should have been unpacked and in use by now.", "No, that's not acceptable, tell them the delivery arrives by 8am tomorrow or we find another supplier.", "Henry, why aren't the test scenarios completed yet? Do you have the raw data uploaded for me?")_ If the others realize she's off her game, they don't say a word. But she's been living through hell and here she is still on her feet. It's all any of them could expect.

Will wonders again where Druitt has vanished to. He finds he is torn between comfort in the knowledge Druitt is far off when Magnus is at her most vulnerable, and the uncomfortable knowledge this monster of the night may be the only human she will open up to.

_"All right. Dismissed. We have work to do."_

The meeting ends, the others disperse, snapping to their morning's duties and keeping the gears running as always.

Will sits beside her on the settee a moment longer, and she sets her log book on the coffee table and falls to silence. He moves to go.  
"Will?" Her voice is so soft, holds nothing of the command he heard a moment ago.

"Yeah?"

"I, um..." She is seated carefully, knees together, arms propped elegantly on her thighs. "I just...I thought you should know. Despite present appearances to the contrary, I'm actually...," he catches the faint sheen of tears wash across her gaze and the shimmer to her voice, "...having a rather hard time with Ashley's death. I'm...it's getting better, I think, but I just...I thought you should know in case I...make any...unusual choices, or..." but she fades away, lets her teeth slide over her lower lip for a moment. Her hands are still.

Will settles his weight more firmly onto the settee. "Okay," he offers simply.

Magnus tosses a brief glance that speaks of gratitude. Simplicity and honesty go far with her. "Thank you."

His hand moves as if to reach for her, then falls limp at his side. "Magnus, what happened down in Honduras? You sure you didn't find anything?"

She shakes her head. "Just...it wasn't the easiest few days."

"But no temple..."

"No temple."

They fall quiet for a long time.

"You know, Magnus...if you want to talk, I am trained for this kind of thing."

She draws a slow breath and he watches the gentle expansion of her chest beneath her blouse. "Mmm..." She glances up with painful humor, and she's starting to let her tears show a little bit, let the pain bleed into her rhythms, "And what does your training advise you to say to the 158 year old woman who's tired of watching everyone she loves die."

Oh, Jesus. He looks down at his worn canvas shoes and shakes his head. "Maybe it just advises me to listen to her."

Magnus closes her eyes and lowers her head to mirror his. Her hair slips a bit, shifts across her shoulder, and he thinks for the first time that she moves a bit like Ashley. Or Ashley moved like her.

He watches her profile and slows his thoughts to speak each word with care. "What my training has taught me is that if this woman shuts herself off from everyone she cares about, to avoid being hurt, then she's not really living, she's just existing." Will knows she's heard all this before, the fundamental human knowledge, the comfortable platitudes. She has to have heard this before, sometime, somewhere in all her history and aches. But he clings to the knowledge that truth makes his words stronger, rather than weakening them with time.

She's listening, he sees this, but she says only softly, "Easier said than done, Will." And the open sincerity makes his skin hurt.

He softens. "I know. But if you'll forgive my saying so, in the little time I've known you, I have learned one thing about you of which I am certain. You, Dr. Magnus, are not an abnormal. You are a very human woman who had something extraordinary happen to her. But I think you value your humanity deeply. I think you cling to it as a sort of...guidepost in uncharted waters. And Magnus...," he moves almost imperceptibly closer in the warm ray of sun from the cathedral windows, "....there isn't a human on the planet -- of any age -- who doesn't need people. It's kind of at the heart of the species."

Will half expects a witty reply, a polished Magnus withdrawal or an age-old witticism in crisp Queen's English. What he doesn't expect is for Magnus's hand to snake out across the settee cushion and tangle with his. The action both calms and terrifies him. And makes him love her. He finds he wants her to be fragile and unbreakable all at once.

Will closes his fingers tight around the warmth of her fingers, holds hard and steadfast. For a long time, they sit, Magnus's gaze glued to the floor, her near silent tears the only sound in the quiet house.

She pulls up with a decisive inhale, and he knows the moment is passing. "I need to make my rounds among the newer residents," she says, voice hoarse but firm, "see what's changed while I was away."

He nods, and when she retracts her hand, he lets it slip away.

"All right."

She doesn't move at once to rise, so he takes his cue to go. This is her house, after all.

He's halfway to the door when she says again, "Will?"

"Yeah?"

She turns to look over her shoulder, meets his gaze without fault or fear, "You know, at moments such as this, you have earned the right to call me 'Helen'."

He feels the genuine affection in his own smile. "Yeah," he says simply. "I know, Magnus."

And as he turns to pass through the door he knows hers is a genuine smile, if tinged with a sadness he suspects may not fade in his lifetime.

*****

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End file.
